January 4, 2013

• Under Water

  A dog growls.
  Some wine spills.
  The fire crackles.
  Splash.
  I sink under water.
  And it's another one of those moments. One of those Fort-Lauderdale-Florida-Ramada-Inn-2005 perfect moments. In June of 2005, I was swimming in a pool late at night at a Ramada Inn in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, when I sunk under water and screamed. I simply could not contain my joy and utter happiness any longer. It was the first time in my life, that time stood still. I know it did. I can remember that moment like it was yesterday. And in my mind it will always be yesterday. Never far from my thoughts, it was recorded in my mind; my heart; my diary; my Xanga; my life, as a perfect moment. I sunk under water and screamed. Happiness had just overflowed in my veins and I needed an outlet to relieve the pressure. Of joy. Bubbles shot to the surface as the air in my lungs depleted, and it was in that moment that I first knew what they meant when they say that there are just some times in life when time really does stand still. It happened.
  But this is 2013 and I'm not here to retell that same old summer story that this Xanga knows by heart. This is about right now. Five minutes ago. Sitting in the brown recliner in the living room. Like swimming in a hotel pool, it never comes expectantly. If I've learned anything about perfect moments, it's that they aren't anything like in the movies. They aren't always on a sunny day, and in my experience doves have never flown above my head in the air. They come in the form of a regular hotel pool; a dirty green bandana; nights spent sleeping in a truck; the way it feels to laugh harder than ever in the middle of a trashed apartment with all of your friends. Perfection is never perfect. It's dirty and flawed and wonderful. And if it goes under-appreciated, it ruins your life. I realize this from time to time.
  I was sitting on the brown recliner in my living room in Jonestown around one in the morning, when I looked around the room. I could hear the fire in our fireplace crackling in the background, I could still feel the cold, wet wine I had just spilled on my shirt, and on the blue couch by the window, Nick and Carlton were sitting side by side playing Call Of Duty Black Ops together. Carlton's little brother lives far away in a different state, and he doesn't see him more than once or twice a year. Nick has begged for a brother since the day he could talk, and he's always been the most troublesome kid in the world. Peaceful is not a word that has ever been used in the same sentence as Nick. Yet here they were, acting like brothers, enthralled in their game with no idea that I was watching them. Carlton was living in the same house as his fifteen year old, new-found best friend. And my little brother Nick, one of the few people in this world who I would die for, looked happy. He hasn't thrown a fit since Carlton has been around. Nick has been switched from medicine to medicine for years and none has ever seemed to calm him down or set him straight. He's always been troubled as hell, and he's always broken my heart with worry for him. But in that moment I saw in his eyes, what only a big sister could see; he was happy; he was calm. And it brought God-damn tears to my eyes. Nick is happy. Something I've always wanted. And on either end of the couch in the middle of the room, sat Mom and Cassie, peacefully watching a show together. Nothing new there, but just being able to watch two more of the few people in this world who I would give anything at all for, sitting in the same room as me, made gratefulness warm up my heart. I don't know how many times I've sat in this living room with them before, and I don't know how many more times I will. But right here, right now, they are beside me and I realized that that's far more meaningful than I recognize most of the time. And on the floor were Rocky and Rylie, growling happily at each other while playing their hearts out. Rylie hasn't had a dog-friend since he moved from his last home in July, and Rocky hasn't had a dog-friend since Sammie... Now their loneliness is gone and the excitement in their eyes isn't any less than the excitement in the eyes of any person. I couldn't see him, but I knew Dad was in his room sleeping safe and sound where he lies every night, like how I know God, though I can't see him, is somewhere out there keeping a loving eye on me. And in that moment, in my parents' modest home where I grew up, in the midst of living on their couch because our house and everything we owned is now in ashes, I knew undoubtedly that this was another perfect moment. Time stood still and my heart took a snapshot of the comfort in the knowledge that my mother, father, and sister were just feet away; a snapshot of Carlton being present in the home where I've grown up, not as a guest, but as a family member; a snapshot of two happy dogs; a snapshot of peace on my brother's face. And another snapshot of peace on my brother's face. This is the snapshot of perfection in the purest form. I don't have more than a couch to call home, and everything I own is now just a pile of dust, but tonight, I have everything I've ever wanted. And it's all in that peacefulness in my brother's eyes. That's all it took to make me realize I am happy. And I am grateful. And I know this won't and can't last forever, but right now I am living in perfection. Pure, raw, ugly, unconventional, flawed, perfection. I just couldn't ask for more.
  And just now, in the comfort of the only home I've really ever known, a dog growled, some wine spilled, the fire crackled, and I sunk under water.

  • 3:20 am
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